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History. Sociology. Nonfiction. HTML:The New York Times bestseller A New York Times Notable and Critics’ Top Book of 2016 Longlisted for the PEN/John Kenneth Galbraith Award for Nonfiction One of NPR's 10 Best Books Of 2016 Faced Tough Topics Head On NPR's Book Concierge Guide To 2016’s Great Reads San Francisco Chronicle's Best of 2016: 100 recommended books A Washington Post Notable Nonfiction Book of 2016 Globe & Mail 100 Best of 2016 “Formidable and truth-dealing . . . necessary.” —The New York Times“This eye-opening investigation into our country’s entrenched social hierarchy is acutely relevant.” —O Magazine In her groundbreaking bestselling history of the class system in America, Nancy Isenberg upends history as we know it by taking on our comforting myths about equality and uncovering the crucial legacy of the ever-present, always embarrassing—if occasionally entertaining—poor white trash. “When you turn an election into a three-ring circus, there’s always a chance that the dancing bear will win,” says Isenberg of the political climate surrounding Sarah Palin. And we recognize how right she is today. Yet the voters who boosted Trump all the way to the White House have been a permanent part of our American fabric, argues Isenberg. The wretched and landless poor have existed from the time of the earliest British colonial settlement to today's hillbillies. They were alternately known as “waste people,” “offals,” “rubbish,” “lazy lubbers,” and “crackers.” By the 1850s, the downtrodden included so-called “clay eaters” and “sandhillers,” known for prematurely aged children distinguished by their yellowish skin, ragged clothing, and listless minds. Surveying political rhetoric and policy, popular literature and scientific theories over four hundred years, Isenberg upends assumptions about America’s supposedly class-free society––where liberty and hard work were meant to ensure real social mobility. Poor whites were central to the rise of the Republican Party in the early nineteenth century, and the Civil War itself was fought over class issues nearly as much as it was fought over slavery. Reconstruction pitted poor white trash against newly freed slaves, which factored in the rise of eugenics–-a widely popular movement embraced by Theodore Roosevelt that targeted poor whites for sterilization. These poor were at the heart of New Deal reforms and LBJ’s Great Society; they haunt us in reality TV shows like Here Comes Honey Boo Boo and Duck Dynasty. Marginalized as a class, white trash have always been at or near the center of major political debates over the character of the American identity. We acknowledge racial injustice as an ugly stain on our nation’s history. With Isenberg’s landmark book, we will have to face the truth about the enduring, malevolent nature of class as well.… (more)
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If one is looking for or waiting for a book really getting into the story of "white trash," and the experience of poor white
But for its stated purpose the book is certainly effective. I, for one, did not need to be convinced about the role of class and particularly class consciousness in American history, but recognize that "the Dream," the "idea" of America, is that it is somehow a classless society, as if those who advance always and primarily do so because of skill and merit, and those who do not advance are just lazy or undisciplined.
The author does not seek to offer a Marxist/Communist critique; if any discussion of class in America is automatically assumed to lead to Marxism such shows the awful state of the discussion about class in America. What the author does well is to show that there are at least two classes in America: where "you" are, and the people "beneath" you in social capital and standing.
Depending where a person is on the economic spectrum, they may have confidence in the virtue of some of the people who are less economically advantaged than themselves: how some among the wealthy may view, say, the middle class, or how members of the middle class view the "working poor." Yet, as the author demonstrates well, all such people come together and maintain a consistent narrative about how they view those on the very bottom rung: "rubbish" in the 17th century, "white trash" today.
The narrative is sadly consistent throughout American history: from its founding as colonies, America was to be a place where at least some of Britain's "trash population" would be dumped. This population has been marginalized for as long as it has existed, considered swamp people, squatters, mudsills, scalawags, white trash, trailer trash, etc. From the beginning they have been pushed to the margins, chastised for their breeding, uncouth living standards, and deviant culture. When they fail they are blamed entirely, generally in terms of bad breeding or bad environment. It has always been fashionable to find ways to "get rid" of such people, from cannon fodder to candidates for forced sterilization. The author traces this from the idea of the American colonies in the sixteenth century through the development of those colonies, the writings of Franklin and Jefferson, the frontier experience, the Civil War, Reconstruction, the early 20th century, the middle 20th century, and the white trash phenomenon since. She explores the few times when notable men have come out of the "white trash" community (Jackson, Lincoln, Johnson, Carter, Clinton), and how they were treated in "civilized" culture on account of it.
The book is light on application; one feels that chapters end abruptly, and it is only in the epilogue that the author's full purposes are accentuated. The point is to open the reader's eyes to the long-standing and thoroughly culturally acceptable condescension and disgust toward "white trash," how it has rendered invisible a large swath of the American population invisible, and has denied them full "American-ness." The goal, ostensibly, is to get the rest of us to be a bit more sympathetic toward their plight, but to what end?
This book provides a good complementary read to J.D. Vance's "Hillbilly Elegy," and vice versa. Both books show well the failures of government and American culture in general to help the marginalized poor white community; Vance speaks well to the internal challenges of that community, while Isenberg does well at showing the systemic, long-term attitude issues of culture in general toward them. Hopefully considering such things may lead to discussions of how these communities can be worked with in a healthier and more productive way.Another book of which the subtitle is more accurate than the title. This book is not really about "white trash"; it's about "the 400 year untold history of class in America."
If one is looking for or waiting for a book really getting into the story of "white trash," and the experience of poor white people in America, one will be disappointed in this book; J.D. Vance's "Hillbilly Elegy" will be more profitable to this end. Rarely are representatives of the "white trash" communities heard in this book; it's mostly about how other people viewed such people.
But for its stated purpose the book is certainly effective. I, for one, did not need to be convinced about the role of class and particularly class consciousness in American history, but recognize that "the Dream," the "idea" of America, is that it is somehow a classless society, as if those who advance always and primarily do so because of skill and merit, and those who do not advance are just lazy or undisciplined.
The author does not seek to offer a Marxist/Communist critique; if any discussion of class in America is automatically assumed to lead to Marxism such shows the awful state of the discussion about class in America. What the author does well is to show that there are at least two classes in America: where "you" are, and the people "beneath" you in social capital and standing.
Depending where a person is on the economic spectrum, they may have confidence in the virtue of some of the people who are less economically advantaged than themselves: how some among the wealthy may view, say, the middle class, or how members of the middle class view the "working poor." Yet, as the author demonstrates well, all such people come together and maintain a consistent narrative about how they view those on the very bottom rung: "rubbish" in the 17th century, "white trash" today.
The narrative is sadly consistent throughout American history: from its founding as colonies, America was to be a place where at least some of Britain's "trash population" would be dumped. This population has been marginalized for as long as it has existed, considered swamp people, squatters, mudsills, scalawags, white trash, trailer trash, etc. From the beginning they have been pushed to the margins, chastised for their breeding, uncouth living standards, and deviant culture. When they fail they are blamed entirely, generally in terms of bad breeding or bad environment. It has always been fashionable to find ways to "get rid" of such people, from cannon fodder to candidates for forced sterilization. The author traces this from the idea of the American colonies in the sixteenth century through the development of those colonies, the writings of Franklin and Jefferson, the frontier experience, the Civil War, Reconstruction, the early 20th century, the middle 20th century, and the white trash phenomenon since. She explores the few times when notable men have come out of the "white trash" community (Jackson, Lincoln, Johnson, Carter, Clinton), and how they were treated in "civilized" culture on account of it.
The book is light on application; one feels that chapters end abruptly, and it is only in the epilogue that the author's full purposes are accentuated. The point is to open the reader's eyes to the long-standing and thoroughly culturally acceptable condescension and disgust toward "white trash," how it has rendered invisible a large swath of the American population invisible, and has denied them full "American-ness." The goal, ostensibly, is to get the rest of us to be a bit more sympathetic toward their plight, but to what end?
This book provides a good complementary read to J.D. Vance's "Hillbilly Elegy," and vice versa. Both books show well the failures of government and American culture in general to help the marginalized poor white community; Vance speaks well to the internal challenges of that community, while Isenberg does well at showing the systemic, long-term attitude issues of culture in general toward them. Hopefully considering such things may lead to discussions of how these communities can be worked with in a healthier and more productive way.
I listened to this on audiobook. Kirsten Potter, the narrator, does an excellent job.
Con: the coverage of the late 20th – to present (2015 in this case) reads more like a blog mash-up. Banal academic processing of pop culture. Odd she overlooked Arthur Penn’s film Bonnie & Clyde, a more sympathetic and complex take on depression WT/hillbillies rather than a sitting target like To Kill a Mockingbird. Isenberg sometimes appears to be affected by anachronistic gotcha presentism when interpreting American intellectual and cultural history, a little reminiscent of social media & blogs. Her intended audience sometimes appears to be naïve undergraduate students; many of the “untold” “aha” moments are probably not all that surprising to older adult liberals. The Debbie Downer style of demythologizing strikes me as Young Adult history although she is by no means an antifa zealot.
Suspect Isenberg would be in the Bernie Sanders progressive camp. Sanders views the American idea through the prism of class, but his movement has been unable to incorporate identity-politics into his vision and most people of color didn’t get on board. What’s frustrating about Isenberg’s analysis and maybe progressivism in general is that it stages the bottom dwellers against the 1 percent, at least rhetorically, but ignores or avoids the dialectical contradictions of the class or classes in-between. By forcing white trash into the box of class, she consciously excludes the alternate formulation of white trash as a state of mind that runs through all classes that choose to identify as white. Do those who are excluded from this gated ethnic community care (or bother to analyze) whether the racist trash comes from the bottom of the class hierarchy, or the struggling middle class, or the 10 or 1 percent, when they are on the receiving end of the garbage?
Pro. Interesting stuff through the early 20th century. I’m as ignorant as any Young Adult (I’m 68 at this writing) on many of these things. Clearly the early English settlement of North America can be seen as a means of dealing with an exploding population, leading to a burgeoning lower class that did not have a place in a growing economy. Given the times, it doesn’t seem all that surprising that the options would be financial speculation and indentured slavery. Isenberg does not provide a political or economic alternative to a largely feudal political and economic system trying to cope with overpopulation during a plague hiatus. She does not address to my satisfaction the cultural differences between the New England and Virginia settlers in seeing or not seeing the need for labor and planning in a new and potentially lethal environment, creating different white labor behavioral cultures in the South and New England and resulting in different perceptions of African and Native American slavery. Does she underplay the impact of religion?
She devotes a chapter to Ben Franklin’s ideology of the self-made man. It is an unsympathetic portrait of the New England petit-bourgeois. Characteristic of the type is a disdain for the bottom of the white hierarchy, introducing the concept of breeding that recurs in the early 20th century fascination with eugenics and Social Darwinism. She makes much of this, downplaying his championship of education, his strong interest in the international scene, and the broad middle of the social hierarchy. The ill-use of the self-made man trope nowadays perhaps causes Isenberg to be a little presentistic in viewing Franklin, undervaluing the positive aspects I’ve listed. In particular, Franklin’s internationalist interests – hard to separate from a broad liberal education -- could well have made a white trash hero like Lyndon Johnson a stronger and more successful president.
The case against slavery or slavery by other means recurs throughout Isenberg’s intellectual history. She focuses on the administration and ideas of James Oglethorpe in the early years of the Georgia settlement, and the better-known Thomas Jefferson. Both attack slavery from the inside and for the benefit of the Anglo-Saxon whites as a whole, not primarily for any strong sense of moral rectitude with regard to the enslaved ethnic groups. Their concern is how slavery demoralizes the work ethic of lower class whites, the main population of the white settlers in North America. In some ways Jefferson’s situation is most interesting since his fellow plantation owners probably see that demoralization as a positive for ensuring that the lower and middle classes don’t try to rise above their stations, and, as Isenberg repeatedly points out, as a means of controlling ethnic slaves and using the white masses to spearhead the ethnic cleansing, best personified at the highest level by Andrew Jackson and his populist presidency of the little (white) guy. Despite being a plantation and slave owner, Jefferson envisioned a pastoral future of small white freeholder farms; a progressive back to the land ideologue, perfectly capturing the contradictions of that recurring American dream. Against the wishes of the white settlers of Georgia, Oglethorpe largely resisted slavery because he believed they were more likely to become capable freeholders without the crutch of slavery, and because small slaveholders would eventually be bought out for the benefit of speculators, who would consolidate their slaveholdings into large plantation properties and would of course give the small landholders the boot. If there are any partial heroes in Isenberg’s history, they are not benign idealists like Jefferson, but unsung and stubborn government bureaucrats like Oglethorpe and later Rexford Tugwell during the New Deal days who were capable of seeing the big picture.
In any case, the Southern power structure did not embrace the visions of either Oglethorpe or Jefferson and in fact thoroughly carried out what those prophets in the wilderness warned would happen: manipulating the white lower class while holding it in contempt, consolidating slave holdings in single crop agriculture (with consequent environmental devastation), and deluding itself with fantasies of imperialist slaveholder power that finally led the Northern industrial war machine to devastate (naturally) the white lower classes. The silver lining was that the top of the Confederate pecking order still managed to undermine Reconstruction by controlling the polls and continuing to exploit the white lower class by encouraging anti-Reconstruction violence and blaming all the nastiness on white trash. Their political stranglehold was strengthened by Social Darwinism and the acceptance of eugenics as the conventional wisdom in the early 20th century. Despite the New Deal’s rescue of the South from the environmental disaster of its one-crop economy via the TVA, the Southern power hierarchy wasn’t really dislodged. The strongest political challenge since the New Deal was launched through the passage of civil rights and voting legislation masterminded by Lyndon Johnson, the white trash master of the senate. Johnson is important for Isenberg’s thesis since he demonstrates the potential of the bottom of the white hierarchy. However, she has to acknowledge that from the class perspective he was really not at the very lowest end of the hierarchy that she seems to consider white trash proper, but part of the amorphous middle area she generally elides from analysis. And she never addresses the insularity of the lower levels of the American hierarchy that disdain the international perspective of the top tier. Relatively ignorant of foreign policy, Johnson was in a weakened leadership position. Unable to navigate confidently through the jungle of military and diplomatic advice, he lost the opportunity to avoid prolonging the war in Vietnam.
This book challenged me, educated me and made me think way outside my comfort zone. It wasn't a fun read but it was fascinating and important and is a must read.
If you like cultural history and learning about how our ancestors lived and how they treated others - or perhaps were treated by others -
The author looks at the American class system, over the past few centuries. A system the pilgrims fled from but immediately adopted
I admired the ambition of the book but the first half bogs down in a drier narrative but does pick up, in the second half of the 20th century, as it explores the influences of politics and pop culture, into the class discussion. A good but not great read.
I do harbor a secret hope that she will update the book with a chapter that covers this demographic's embrace of "billionaire" Donald Trump.